Goodnight, Elizabeth
by Chorus of Resistance
Summary: "Sorry to say this, truly I am, but I think it would be suffice to say that I care more about losing her than I did you."


**Goodnight Elisabeth, One-shot**

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><p><em>This was…slightly difficult to write. I'm not sure why.<br>I'm aware that lots of other stories have been written about this particular point in the series, but I really wanted to get my idea out there. It takes place after Colonel Mustang's subordinates are reassigned, in case some of you were wondering._

_This was inspired by and contains lyrics from the song __**Losing You**__, by Dead by April.  
>The title? Yeah, don't ask. I don't know where it came from either.<em>

_Enjoy!  
>(I know it is short; it's meant to be that way.) <em>

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><p><em>What I have in me, in my mind is you.<br>I would die if we were through._

The lamppost at the end of the street was flickering; the bulb inside dangerously close to burning out completely. Silhouettes of people huddled up in coats and shielding themselves against the downpour of rain strode quickly underneath each light, desperate to make it home or to catch a taxi before the thunder and lightning made their entrance.

While they were borderline running past each other, one man was not.

His long black coat and jacket beneath it were soaking wet and rain dripped into his eyes. Nonetheless, Colonel Roy Mustang kept walking, with no particular destination in mind.

Lately he never seemed to have one.

Walking alone seemed almost ominous to him now. Without his ever-so-loyal shadow following him anymore, things appeared to take on unfamiliar shapes. Everything seemed significantly more dangerous than before.

Not that he was scared, no. Far from it. He wasn't scared for himself.

He was scared for her.

She believed that that was her only purpose to life. To protect him until he accomplished his goals.  
>Mustang believed that he had to protect her. At any cost.<p>

It was doubtful that they both knew of each others' respective mission. And he felt that he had failed at his own.

It was agonizing, signing away each one of his subordinates to their new transfer posts. Each time he wrote his name, the signature seemed to grow sloppier with the mixture of fury and agony he was feeling.

Mustang remembered the look Lieutenant Hawkeye had given him just before she had left what was once her office. He wasn't the only one who was suffering with the new development.

Both of them were well aware of what was going on when she learned who her new superior officer was. The Homunculi were trying to keep the Colonel in line, and they retaliated to his previous actions by putting the life of his dearest subordinate on it.

The most painful experience Mustang had felt that day was watching Fuhrer Bradley make his was to his office with _her _in tow. She had been staring at the floor, a completely dead look in her eyes. Mustang hoped with every fiber of his being that he would never have to see that look again. It was torture.

_I am not prepared to be strong  
>I just can't believe I am losing you.<em>

Completely disregarding the still pouring rain, Mustang stared up into the sky, blinking rapidly at every drop that splattered into his eyes.

However, he had to continue walking once more; the unnerved stares of other passerby and homeowners in their windows were beginning to annoy him. Though the people were merely bemused by his odd actions, Roy couldn't help feeling like they wanted to know why he was so upset with himself.

_It's not like anyone would understand anyway. _Mustang thought darkly. He couldn't talk to a single living soul about what he was going through without it reaching the ears of someone he did not want involved.

The idea hit him with a jolt; a single _living _soul wouldn't understand.

He flagged down a taxi rather quickly and threw the bills over the seat, commanding in a rushed tone to escort him to the local cemetery. The flustered driver immediately floored the gas, catching the notion that his latest passenger didn't want to engage in small talk this time.

Watching the windshield wiper dart back and forth, Roy Mustang knew that even though his best friend was dead, there was still some comfort to be derived at the fact that he could still talk to him, though the Colonel wasn't sure if he really believed in the possibility that Maes Hughes could actually hear what he was trying to say.

He strode quickly across the dark green grass, grimly satisfied that he had a destination in mind; grim, as it just happened to be the cemetery.

No one else was nearby visiting their relatives, or visiting their friends. The storm was letting up now, though it was still raining hard enough to make the possibility of leaving a dry house quite unappealing to some.

Roy stared down at the gray stone. He wished, oh how he wished, that he could look his friend in the eye once more rather than an ominous stone in place of his image.

He shuffled his feet, a now familiar gesture that he always did while visiting the Brigadier General's grave. His wet clothes chafed against his skin with each movement.

"You know, I actually miss you waving pictures in my face," He began slowly. "And using the government line to tell stories about what Elicia had done that morning. I was actually foolish enough to ignore that."

He smiled then and continued weakly, "I'm sorry to tell you that I still haven't gotten a wife yet."

There was a very pregnant pause and Roy groaned loudly.

"Damn it, Hughes! You're killing me! You should have been there supporting me, helping me make it to the top! I should have been the one to die first; those I care about shouldn't be taken away!"

Mustang was disgusted with himself that he was foolish enough to think that Hughes would actually answer back. While he remained silent once more, everything that he had been feeling up until that moment burst out in waves.

Mustang no longer cared that the person he wanted to talk to most was deceased.  
>He had to speak to <em>someone.<em>

"Lieutenant Hawkeye and the rest of my subordinates were transferred," he said. "Fuhrer Bradley has finally realized that I was up to something, and he didn't like it."

"It almost makes me want to quit and give up…I won't lose her too. I can't." Roy voice was now nothing more than a broken whisper. It was devastating to hear himself speak like that.

"I'm sorry to say this, truly I am, but I think it would be suffice for me to say that I care more about losing her that I did you."

Roy smiled. He could almost hear a quiet voice reply to him.

_I know. But you can't just quit, even if a part of you wants to. That won't help matters._

He knew exactly what Maes would have said, and that seemed to strengthen his resolve.

His best friend was dead, and one of his closest subordinate had almost died too.

When he remembered how Riza Hawkeye had nearly lost her life once before, that suddenly made him furious, and then suddenly depressed once more.

Roy paid little attention to where he was heading to as he left the cemetery; the depressing thoughts were torn between the fact that during that time she had still remained a subordinate to him and the fact that she could have been injured just as badly as Lieutenant Havoc had, or even killed.

Roy Mustang wouldn't admit this aloud anytime soon, but it was something he already told himself.

He missed her. A lot.

_Loneliness is affecting me  
>Gone are the days you were there protecting me.<br>So cold…so alone._

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><p><em>This was arguably the most difficult piece yet. I had no clue what I was going to put into this!<br>I meant for it to be a somewhat sad one-shot, so if you felt that way, good, although I'm still sorry you're sad._


End file.
